How to Cure a Sick Alchemist
by NekoRyu-chan
Summary: Mustang gets really sick and, being an idiot, he goes to work. What happens when Havoc sees the colonel in such a weak state? HavocxRoy


**Yet another FMA Yaoi fanfic by me. Hee hee! I know I need to work on the bonus chapter for Strawberry, and I'll get to that. There's one more FMA fanfic I'm going to put up...and then I'll work on the bonus chapter. For now, enjoy some RoyxHavoc sweetness! Read on!**

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How to Cure a Sick Alchemist

Colonel Roy Mustang hated a number of things. He hated the rain, being wet (when he didn't want to be), and anything associated with him being "useless." He also hated the snow. I twas basically frozen water and if enough got on his ignition gloves...POOF! Useless! Roy Mustang also hated working overtime. Not only did it cut into his dates, it also deprived him of sleep. He **needed** sleep—anyone who managed to catch him on a bad day, would usually be turned into charcoal.

There were also little random things that Roy Mustang hated. He hated bland foods, for example. He thinks that bland foods are boring; food needs to be either very sweet, sour, spicy, or overall flavorful. He also hated rats. He wasn't **scared** of them...he just hated them. They were big, fat, disease-carrying vermin that had no place in a human's world. Any rat that crossed his path...SNAP! Roy Mustang also hated needles...a fear which he doesn't like to speak of.

But out of **everything** Roy Mustang hated—the one thing that he hated the **most**...

Was getting **sick**.

And, unfortunately, the stars were not on his side today...

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RIIIING!

RIIIING!

RIIIING!

RII—!

**BAM**!

Roy Mustang groaned loudly, as he hit his alarm clock off of his bedside table. Looking down at it, he confirmed that he had broken his 5th alarm clock that week—and only one was by accident.

Mustang stared at the remains of the alarm clock for the longest time. What time was it? Was this the first time it rang? Or it's 10th (he had slept through many alarms in the past)? Was he late for work now?

He sighed, as he sat up, stretching grandly. He was about to yawn, when a coughing fit struck him, catching him off-guard. The coughs weren't loose and wet, like coughs should be. They were dry and tight, making his chest twinge with pain with every cough. After a good minute and a half of coughing, Mustang's stomach suddenly lurched. Knowing he wasn't going to be able to hold it down, Mustang rushed to the bathroom, making it just in time to throw up last night's dinner in the toilet.

_Damn...And that was a good supper, too. _Mustang rested his forehead against the cool porcelain. He was surprised how cold it felt against his skin. After waiting a minute to make sure nothing was coming back up, Mustang stood up shakily. He staggered over to the sink to wash off his face and rise out his mouth. After turning off the water, the colonel looked at himself in the mirror.

Aside from looking exhausted and weak, he seemed fine. However his pale skin and flushed cheeks were a sign of something else.

He didn't want to admit it...but he was **sick**. And badly.

Mustang sighed softly (he didn't want to bring on another coughing fit) as he started to strip for the shower. _If I'm sick, then all I have to do is take some medicine and I'll be fine. I'm sure I have some cold medicine somewhere..._ Mustang turned on the hot water and stepped into the welcoming shower.

--------------------------

The streets were full with snow, as a huge snowstorm hit a few days ago. The roads were slightly clear, as road maintenance had managed to clean it up enough to drive on. The air was still cold, though there was no wind. Everyone's breath formed right in front of them, a cold mist. Everyone was also bundled, covering every inch of skin they could.

Mustang walked down the street, his head foggy. He wore a heavy black woolen coat and on his hands were heavy, maroon mittens; his ignition gloves were too thin for his kind of weather. A white scarf was wrapped around his neck, keeping his warm from the chilly air. Even though he was bundled up, he was still cold—but this time it was a different kind of chill.

_Damn this fever! I took the medicine, so it should go away soon..._ He had taken a **lot** of meds before he left the house. After making sure that mixing certain ones together wouldn't kill him, Mustang took medicine for headaches, fever, nausea, coughing, runny nose, and aches and pains. So far, all the medicine managed to accomplish was make his head all fuzzy. _Good thing I didn't __**drive**_

When he finally arrived at HQ, his office was empty. Confused, Mustang glanced at the clock; it read 12:10pm. _Everyone's on lunch break._ Mustang began to shrug off his jacket...then thought against it, as chills racked his body again. He put the gloves and scarf on the coat rack and staggered over to his desk.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come to work..." muttered Mustang, as he plopped down into his seat. He had no idea how high his fever was (he didn't have a thermometer at home) nor did he know when the medicine was going to wear off. If his head were clearer, maybe he would've brought extra medicine, just in case the symptoms rose up again...And if he were **smart**, he would've stayed at home.

"I'm screwed...!" whimpered Mustang, as he sprawled out on his desk, not caring that he had just knocked over a huge stack of papers that had to be signed. He rested his forehead against the cool wood of his desk. _I wanna go home..._

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2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc was walking back to the office, pulling out a pack of his cigarettes along the way. He knew the things were bad for him, but he couldn't stop smoking them. And no one else could convince him otherwise. Maybe if he got a **girlfriend**, maybe she could convince him to stop. But, thanks to a certain onyx-haired, obsidian eyed, handsome State Alchemist, who was also a Colonel...Havoc's chances of getting a steady girlfriend were slim.

_If I had a nickle for every girlfriend who dumped me for Mustang, I'd be rich._ Havoc snapped open his lighter (a present from a past girlfriend) and lit his cigarette, right before heading into the office. Mustang was extra-late this morning. He was supposed to be in at 9:00am...and it was already 12:40pm! Either the Colonel was being lazy...or he had a damn good reason not to be in today.

Just before Havoc opened the office doors, a loud 'thud' sounded from inside. He blinked and listened for more. There was a soft voice, swearing rather colorfully, then silence. The 2nd Lieutenant hesitated, before opening the doors and walking in.

There, lying on the floor, in the middle of the room, was Colonel Roy Mustang. He was lying on his side with his arms and legs sprawled out in front of him. The look on his face was one of pure irritation.

When Havoc closed the doors behind him, Mustang's weary obsidian eyes looked up at him. For a moment, panic flashed in them, before they eased to their normal look, "Lieutenant Havoc. Nice to see you."

"Nice to see that you're finally at work, sir." said Havoc, with a grin. He walked over to the scowling Mustang, who was still lying on the ground, "Any reason as to why you're lying on the floor?"

"Shut up." muttered Mustang, as he averted his eyes and tried to sit up. Then his limbs gave out, his body landing on the floor with another 'thud,' "I fell down and...and I can't get up..."

"Hm?" Havoc blinked, noticing the change in Mustang's tone of voice. Instead of it's usual sternness, it was soft and, almost, pitiful. Now that he was paying attention, Havoc noticed that the colonel was pale and his cheeks were flushed. His eyes, instead of their usual sharpness, were blurry and weary. His forehead was slick with sweat and, even though it wasn't cold in the room, Havoc saw Mustang shiver.

"Are you alright, sir?" asked Havoc, kneeling down by Mustang. He exhaled a cloud of smoke...and Mustang started coughing, heavily. Seeing that it was hurting Mustang to even cough, Havoc stubbed out his cigarette and tossed it into the ashtray. While Mustang was coughing away, Havoc pressed his hand against the colonel's forehead, making the coughing man flinch. Havoc flinched too—at how hot Mustang was, "S-Sir, you have a fever—"

"Tell me something I **don't** know!" snapped Mustang, smacking away Havoc's hand. He tried to sit up again and succeeded. He sat on the ground for a minute, before wrapping his arms around himself, as another wave of chills crashed over him, "I-I took some medicine, so I'll b-be fine in a minute." stuttered Mustang, through the chills.

"With all due respect, sir, you shouldn't even **be** here with a fever like that." said Havoc, concern flashing in his sky-blue eyes. Mustang's eyes met his and softened. Then another coughing fit racked him, causing him to tip over. With a soft yelp, Havoc rushed forward and caught Mustang in his arms. Even through his uniform, Havoc could still feel the colonel's hot skin.

"Sir?" asked Havoc, hoping the panic wasn't too evident in his voice. The colonel's weak state was really worrying him now.

Mustang looked up at Havoc, a strange shine in his eyes. He then buried his face into Havoc's chest, gripping the taller man's uniform, "Take me home..."

"Huh?"

"Take me **home**." said Mustang, a bit strongly. He coughed harshly and shook for a moment, "I don't want anyone else seeing me like this..."

Havoc's eyes softened, as he wrapped his arms around Mustang, who didn't protest at the action. In fact, the colonel snuggled into his, sighing softly. Havoc knew Mustang enough to know that he **hated** seeming weak in front of others. This moment was a rare occasion for him...

But right now, Mustang was as sick as a dog. With the colonel's request in mind, Havoc lifted the, surprisingly light, Mustang into his arms.

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After sneaking the sickly Mustang out of HQ, Havoc slipped him and Mustang into a military vehicle. After making sure the colonel was comfortable, Havoc started up the car and drove out of HQ and towards Mustang's house.

While driving fast (a little too fast, for the road conditions were still bad) Havoc glanced over at Mustang. Since the colonel was complaining about the chills, Havoc wrapped his coat, plus Mustang's own coat, around him. He seemed content with that. Now, he was leaning up against the door, resting his warm forehead against the cold window. His skin was still pale and his breathing had turned raspy. He truly wasn't in good condition.

Havoc began to worry for a minute. Since leaving HQ, Mustang hadn't said a word. _I wonder if I should take him to the hospital instead..._

"...passed it..."

"Huh?"

"You passed it. My house."

Havoc swore softly, as he put on the brakes and made a U-turn back towards Mustang's house. He had only been there a couple of times before, so it was easy for him to miss it.

Havoc parked out in the front of Mustang's house and turned off the car. He got out and went around, as Mustang fiddled with the handle. The 2nd Lieutenant chuckled softly, as he opened the colonel's door. Mustang blinked for a moment before looking up at him.

"Just leave everything to me, sir." said Havoc, with a grin. He reached in to help Mustang out of the car, with Mustang wrapping his arms around Havoc's neck, "You want to be carried again?"

"I don't think I can stand..." said Mustang, softly. Out of the corner of his eye, Havoc could see that Mustang was blushing lightly. He chuckled again and lifted Mustang into his arms.

"It's alright. Besides—I don't mind carrying you." shrugged Havoc, as he closed the car door with his foot. Holding Mustang against his chest, Havoc walked to the front door and opened it; surprised that it was unlocked.

"Must've forgot to lock it when I went out today." whispered Mustang, holding the coats close to him.

Havoc walked in and closed the door behind him, flipping on the lights. He blinked as he saw the inside of Mustang's house...as it was a complete **mess**.

"Looks like you need to hire a maid, sir."

"Shut it."

Havoc chuckled, as he began to walk (carefully) up the stairs. He knew where Mustang's room was, as after returning from the bar one night, drunk, they ventured up there and had a romantic encounter...

The 2nd Lieutenant walked into the colonel's room and laid Mustang down on his bed. The onyx-haired man shuddered from the lack of warmth, as he huddled against the coats.

"First off, we need you out of those clothes." said Havoc, resting his hands on his hips.

"Huh?"

Mustang looked at Havoc, giving him the deer-in-the-headlights look. Being all wrapped up in the coats, looking like a bedbug, Mustang looked like an innocent child.

Havoc laughed at Mustang's appearance, "Not like **that**, silly. Those sweat-soaked clothes will just give you worse chills."

"Ah...okay." said Mustang, meekly. He regrettably shrugged out of the coats and started taking off his uniform, with Havoc helping him. The colonel was weak, thanks to the fever, so Havoc helped him take off the tough stuff. Soon, Mustang was lying on his bed, on his back, wearing nothing but a simple pair of grey cotton boxers. He was too tired to sit up, so he decided to lay down.

Havoc couldn't hid the blush that rose onto his cheeks. Right now, Mustang was in a very alluring pose; lying on his back, with his legs slightly spread open and his arms askew at his sides. It was like he was **asking** Havoc to jump on top of him and have his way with him. _No, __**no**__! First off, Roy's weak and sick. It would be __**sick**__ of me to take advantage of a guy like that! Dammit, now my pants feel tighter..._

"Jean...?"

Havoc got jarred out of his thoughts by Mustang's weak voice. With a start, he realized that the colonel had called him by his **first** name; something he hadn't done in awhile...

"N-Nothing's wrong, don't worry." said Havoc, cursing his stuttering voice, "I was just thinking, is all."

"Thinking about how weak and pathetic I am now?" asked Mustang, a small smile on his lips. He lifted his head a little bit to see Havoc, before he laid it back down against the pillow, exhausted by the mere effort.

Havoc's eyes softened, as he looked at Mustang for a moment, before turning back around to search for some clothes for him, "It's a cold, Roy. Once it gets you, you can't help but submit to it."

Mustang blinked, as he realized that Havoc used his first name to address him. He smiled softly at the blonde 2nd Lieutenant, "That may be true, however I could've put up more of a fight."

"With how much sleep you've lost, I'm surprised you didn't get sick sooner." said Havoc, as he searched through Mustang's closet, "You need to take it easy every once in awhile."

"I don't know **how** to take it easy..." muttered Mustang, pouting slightly.

"Take a break every once in awhile and let your team over you up." said Havoc, as he pulled out a white, long-sleeved, button-up shirt, "We're there for that, you know."

Mustang smiled softly, as Havoc made his way over to the bed, "I'll do that, but I'll make sure I don't put too much work on you guys."

The 2nd Lt. nodded, as he held up the shirt, "Let's get this on you."

With Havoc's help, the colonel managed to sit up enough so that he could slip the shirt on. As Havoc buttoned up the shirt, Mustang studied his face, intently. Havoc noticed this, as he finished up buttoning the shirt, "Roy? What's—"

Before Havoc could finish, Mustang, with surprising strength, grabbed the collar of his uniform and pulled the 2nd Lieutenant into a kiss.

Havoc's eyes widened at the sudden, desperate kiss. With a soft sigh, he succumbed to it; kissing him back, gently. Mustang's tongue ran along Havoc's bottom lip, almost begging for entrance. Havoc parted his lips slightly and Mustang's tongue slid in, immediately wrapping around his. Havoc sucked on Mustang's tongue, tasting the colonel's flavor; a flavor that he had missed. Mustang moaned softly, as he gently pulled down Havoc onto the bed. Havoc restrained a little, not wanting to completely be on top of the sick alchemist. The 2nd Lieutenant let his hand travel up Mustang's shirt, while at the same time, the colonel was slowly pulling his tongue out of Havoc's mouth in a very, sensual way...

Then he started coughing.

Havoc cursed the cough for it's bad timing, as he gently patted Mustang's back; he had rolled over onto his side, so he wouldn't cough on Havoc. He then cursed himself for succumbing to Mustang's desperate kiss and making out with the sick man. _Still...I was so close! Damn sickness!_

"Maybe we shouldn't do this while you're sick." sighed Havoc, stroking the colonel's pale cheek, as he rolled back over onto his back.

Mustang shook his head wildly and pulled Havoc's hand closer to his face, "No, I **need** it. I think that'll make me feel better more than medicine."

Havoc thought for a moment. When Mustang was coughing earlier, it was loose and wet, which was a good sign. The color had returned to his cheeks, though his fever was still high. Did that mean that making out with Mustang for that short time was actually **curing **him?!

"How about this?" said Havoc, leaning forward and kissing the colonel's forehead, "When you're better, enough so that you can actually go to work, and the fever is gone...we'll have hot, sweaty, dirty sex right here."

"Is that a promise? Just like we used to?" asked Mustang, a grin on his lips.

Havoc returned the grin and claimed those lips with a small kiss, "Promise. Just like we used to. But for now, you need to rest. And don't worry—I'll be right here."

"You promise?" yawned Mustang, softly. He didn't want to admit it, but he was **exhausted**. _That's what I get when I take a whole bunch of medicine._ He watched wearily, as Havoc took off his uniform jacket, pants, and boots and laid down next to him. Like Mustang, he was also wearing plain, cotton boxers.

"I promise, Roy." whispered Havoc, pulling the tired colonel closer to him, with Mustang's back against his chest. He wrapped one arm around Mustang's waist with his hand resting on top of Mustang's left, while his other arm was being used as the colonel's pillow.

As soon as Mustang laid his head down, he was asleep. Chuckling softly, Havoc snuggled up against Mustang, falling asleep soon after.

How do you cure a sick alchemist?

Fall in love with him.


End file.
